Dear Friend,

I invite you to join us Monday, April 29th, at 6 PM ET as we acknowledge Arab American Heritage Month by focusing on how our community relates to life's joy and struggles through language and art. You'll hear from award-winning Arab American artists Naomi Shihab Nye and Heather Raffo about their chosen forms of expression, the role their art plays in providing hope, and their response to the crisis of worldwide injustice and inequity. For those of you less familiar with these remarkable artists, I have shared a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye and an excerpt from Heather Raffo's 9 Parts of Desire below. 

Art is integral to connection and Arab American artists are culture bearers helping us to better understand ourselves and our world. As art is always informed by the artists' experiences and identities, Arab American artists’ often provide a healing space for Arab Americans while educating others about the community’s heritage, narrative, hopes, and dreams. 

You may register for what will be an extraordinary conversation here.

Please register here to receive the dial-in information for the Zoom happening Monday, April 29th, 2024 from 6:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. ET. After you register, you will automatically get the link/dial-in information for the conversation. 

I hope you join us.

Best,

Maya

Palestine Vine

by

Naomi Shihab Nye

Seeds wrapped tenderly in plastic –

one package said White, one Red.

Hand-lettered, mailed by friends

I never met.

They grew instantly.

Strangely confining themselves to one corner

of the metal container, as if a metaphor.

I swear I planted them all over.

Leafy vines popped forth,

glory and green lengthening overnight.

I didn’t notice one had twined around the rungs of the table.

Today, moving the pot, the biggest vine ripped out, broke off.

No! How could I have missed the simple

wrapping of the tendril suggesting happiness

in that exact light?

Its roots remain. A broken stem.

I wasn’t evil, but I wasn’t careful.

This is what happens in the world.

Now, soaking snipped vine in a glass of water, feeling

the hope and weight of so many years

excerpt from Chapter One of HEATHER RAFFO'S 9 PARTS OF DESIRE

MULLAYA: Early in the morning I come to throw dead shoes into the river

without this river there would be no here there would be no beginning it is why I come.

Take off your slippers take off your sandals take off your boots

appease the hungry so I can sleep beneath the stars without fear of being consumed or

the river again will flood the river again will be damned the river again will be diverted today the river must eat.

When the grandson of Genghis Khan burned all the books in Baghdad the river ran black with ink. What color is this river now? It runs the color of old shoes the color of distances the color of soles torn and worn this river is the color of worn soles.

This land between two rivers I only see the one- where is the other river more circular and slow? Why only this one straight and fast? Where is the other? And the other land? Where is anything they said there would be? We were promised so much the Garden of-

Let me tell you I have walked across it Qurna, Eridu, Ur the Garden of Eden was here

its roots and its rivers and before this Garden the chaos and the fighting loud and angry children- the dark sea lies beneath my country still as it has always done sweet and bitter water-children of Nammu. But our marshlands now are different they've been diverted, dammed, and dried I have walked from there to here from the flood to the highway of death collecting, carrying you can read the story here it is, read it all here on my sole.

My feet hurt I have holes in my shoes I have holes now even in my feet there are holes everywhere even in this story.

I don't want new shoes! I would rather swim than walk- bring me back the water I was created in the water in which I woke each morning and went to bed each night the water in which I swam to school and milked the buffalo and listened to the loud voices of frogs bring me back the marshes and the fishes reed man, reed woman

I would rather swim than walk- and now the river has developed an appetite for us its current runs back beneath Iraq to where Apsu and Tiamat are cradling still underneath my country there is no paradise of martyrs only water a great dark sea of desire and I will feed it my worn sole.

The Arab American Institute is a national civil rights advocacy organization that provides strategic analysis to policymakers and community members to strengthen democracy, protect civil rights and liberties, and defend human rights. AAI organizes the 3.7 million Arab Americans across the country to ensure an informed, organized, and effective constituency is represented in all aspects of civic life. 

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